


never gonna get too close to you (even if it hurts)

by bittersnake



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Epistolary, F/M, Lack of Communication, pregnancy mention, sad touching, the author is living her Finn Skywalker dreams and no one can stop her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 22:26:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16731795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittersnake/pseuds/bittersnake
Summary: Sometimes death brings second chances.





	never gonna get too close to you (even if it hurts)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [outruntheavalanche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outruntheavalanche/gifts).



> Hey outruntheavalanche! I've never had the chance to write Sana and I hope I've done her just. ;_;  
> I hope you enjoy!!

***NEW MESSAGE***

***NEW MESSAGE***

***NEW MESSAGE***

The notification flickers ominously in the background of her holoscreen. She knows who it is. Who it has been for the past three months. And yet, she can't bring herself to open it. To commit to this new fate.

She scoffs to herself. She's getting soft in her old age. 

In the past, she would have merely deleted it and moved on. Just filed it as a lead she's decided to reject. And yet...

She skims the subject line. It's the same thing each time: _"Request for a Meeting with Captain Starros."_ So polite--that definitely didn’t come from her. Sana sits back in her seat, slowly placing her feet on the dash and wincing slightly, the damn chill of Ilum still seeping into her bones like those mynocks slipped amongst the bits of her ship. She sighed. She's getting old. She’d prepared for so many things in her life--you had to as someone who thrived in the seedier aspects of the galaxy--but she never accounted for growing old. Getting old was for other people. And yet, here she is. Outlived so many _good_ individuals and yet, still alone. She leans back and finally acknowledges the bantha in the room.

"I thought this space magic was only for the chosen few."

"The Force works--"

"I swear to the kriffing Force, I _will_ find some way to slug you through death if you finish that sentence."

"Sometimes the Force gives us the chance to face regrets we never had a chance to face."

At this, she spins her chair around to face him, his essence, whatever mystical mumbo jumbo that brought him through death to stand here on the bridge of the Sapphire Cobra.

"Couldn't you have had the decency of aging badly," she mutters taking in the dark blonde hair intertwined with gray; the beard (!), short and closely cropped, which adds a sense of distinguishment previously lacking in his once boyish looks.

"I wanted to match."

She sighs.

"So what exactly does the Force," she rolls her eyes at this. "Think I regret. I have a long list."

"I wasn't referring to your regrets," he says softly.

She smiles sadly in response. "It only took over two decades for you to admit it. That's longer than most mind you. But they all come to that conclusion in the end."

Luke shakes his head sadly. "Still selling yourself short, I see."

"When people have a tendency of disappearing on you, you realize it's maybe not them but you that's the problem."

"You left first."

"You didn't complain."

"I should have.”

* * *

_"Greetings Captain Starros,_

_My name is Finn...."_

She hadn't meant for it to last more than a night. He wasn't her type. He had that sheen of goodness that radiated from him. It was sickening. But he was....charming. Not in the "obviously lying and inflating his ego" way that son of a bantha Han was, or the "far too impressed by himself, his moustache, and his wardrobe" like Lando. There was an almost a self-reflective naïveté about him. But he was clever. Anyone who'd managed to somehow survive a backwoods wasteland like Tatooine and become an officer of the Rebellion had to have a few more neurons than expected, but then again they did take Han. 

"You're thinking out loud," the blankets mumbled sleepily beside her. 

"What did I say about reading minds," she said sharply.

"It's not reading minds to read body language." The blankets moved, shifting to reveal a sleepy eyed and tousled hair Luke. There was something just not right for him to still be attractive after--she glanced at the nearby chrono--only two hours of sleep. 

"It's nothing. Go back to sleep."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she muttered burying herself beneath the shifts and turning away from him.

"Hey, what's going on?"

"Nothing."

A cool leather palm touched her shoulder. "I don't need to be able to read minds to know that's blatantly untrue."

"I'm fine," she sighed rolling onto her back, actively staring at the durasteel ceiling and not at her bed partner.

"Did I do something?" he asked softly, tentatively prodding with words.

"You never do anything. I'm fine. You're fine. We're all fine."

"Then why are you so tense."

"It's nothing."

"Sit up," he commanded.

"Excuse me?" She only took commands from herself and she wasn’t going to start obeying now, no matter how entrancing those baby blues.

"Please sit up," he repeated, this time softer--or at least not commanding.

She begrudgingly sat up, scanning the room for her clothes. One green scarf was tossed lazily near the door and the other one on the far side of Luke, she noted, along with a ring of fading bruises around his wrist. She smirked, recalling the actions which led to them.

"I said sit up, not leave," he said chidingly, propping himself on one shoulder, eyes skimming--appreciatively, she noticed with a small sense of satisfaction--across her bare form.

"Why else would you ask someone to sit up?" she said. Ah, there were her pants. Nicely folded right next to his. Of course, farmboy would do that. Neat, clean, polished. Simple but purposeful actions. Why did she get into bed with him again? And again. And again.

"To do this," Luke whispered next to her ear as he placed his palms on her shoulders. She felt his fingers splay across her nape, both thumbs firmly pressing into the base of her neck, sending sparks that lightly danced along the precipice of pain and pleasure. It was annoyingly delightful and reminded her of how...dextrous he was with his hands as he slowly massaged her shoulders.

Sana let out a soft moan at his ministrations. 

"Better?" he asked, his breath caressing the length of her neck. His lips just brushing the skin of her shoulder, his hands migrating from her shoulders to smoothing lines along her sides, fingertips lightly grazing the sides of her breasts, thumbs stroking down the length of her spine.

"Almost," Sana replied, smoothly turning to kiss him, shifting her weight to roll him back into the bed. She slung a long thigh over his waist, planting her palms on his chest. She stared down at the picture Luke made: eyes blown wide with only the slimmest ring of piercing blue circling them; chest slowly rising and falling beneath her palms; lips bitten, bruised, and flushed. 

"Better?" he asked husky and low, placing his hands on her waist and drawing her closer.

"Much," Sana sighed sinking down on to him and into oblivion.

* * *

_"....tests done by Dr. Harter Kalonia have determined that genetically, you and Luke Skywalker are...."_

"You're leaving for the Outer Rim?" 

The words rang out as Sana was working on final checks on her ship, Sapphire Cobra. It wasn't the Volt Cobra, she thought wistfully, but it did its job.

"Sana!"

She sighed, mentally cursing whoever spilled that bit of news. It was Han probably. The scoundrel got married and suddenly he believed that everyone needed to partake in marital bliss. She rolled her eyes, mentally preparing for this encounter. She knew she should have nipped this thing earlier. Six months was one thing, hell even a year was understandable given the war. But seven, seven years of this... thing-- _relationship,_ a voice whispered in the back of her head. It's a _relationship_. She killed it. Much like she was going to kill this uncomfortable conversation that was approaching her.

She turned to face him, taking in his black clad form. Blonde hair tousled and sweaty--he must’ve run to get here before she left.

"I heard you were leaving," he said softly. No, not softly. Kindly. Kriff.

"Han talks too much," she replied crossing her arms and looking out into the distance. 

"It was actually Threepio that decided to share the news.In his defense, he assumed I knew."

"Well, evidently now you do."

Luke stared at her. His piercing gaze was not pleading but full of understanding. He stepped closer to her, taking her hand in his. His thumb lightly rubbing over her scarred knuckles. Suddenly, he yanked her into his arms, his other hand cradling her head in his palm. Lips covered hers forcefully, at first, but gradually softened. It felt like a goodbye. It was a goodbye. Finally, they let go. His gloved palm softly stroked her cheek, his forehead pressed against hers. 

"May the Force be with you, Sana Starros."

Three days later in hyperspace, Sana Starros spent her morning retching in the refresher. For the first time ever, it wasn’t due to drinking.

Kriff.

* * *

_"Due to extenuating circumstances, I am unable to meet Luke Skywalker but assuming this message reaches you, I would like the opportunity...."_

She felt empty and raw inside. Her head felt like she had been run over by a herd of banthas and then subjected to Ewoks using her skull as a drum. There's blood. Lots of blood. Coating her thighs and streaked across her now much flatter stomach. The iron-ridden scent filled the air. Something is wrong. 

It's quiet.

Too quiet.

Sana sat up slowly. Ringing in her head dulling slightly. She licked her lips. A dull bitter metallic taste filled her senses. Drugs. 

"You're awake."

She turned suddenly to her right, wincing slightly at the movement. The source of the voice was a man. No not a man. A scrawny boy dressed in military regalia similar to the style of Imperials. He was pale with closely cropped red hair. He looked as if he was perpetually sniffing something foul at all times. He continued speaking.

"As you can tell, we have given you the opportunity to start afresh without that parasite lingering within you--ACK!"

At this statement, her hands were around his scrawny throat, desperately attempting to squeeze the life out of this miserable creature.

"Where is my child," she hissed.

A dull chime went off and holoscreen turned on. It showed a baby, brown-skinned and swaddled in black cloth, lightly dozing in a small pod. It's small huffs filled the room. Next to the pod stood a stormtrooper, gun aimed at it's head. She slowly released her hands.

"What do you want," she asked bitterly.

The boy rubbed his neck and sneered at her. "We want nothing but your appreciation for your offspring being selected to serve the new order."

"Consider my appreciation retracted."

"Llet me rephrase this. You leave, your child survives and you go back to whatever miserable life a smuggler like you was carving out. You stay? Well... we've already rid most of this hospital of unnecessary waste. Two more won't matter." 

She stilled.

A beat.

She weighed all her options. It was a devil’s deal and regardless, the only one who would truly win was the cruel monster in front of her. She looked at the holoscreen again. Memorized every last detail. The small wrinkle of his nose as he dozed away. The curl of his chubby fingers. The black curls matted against his head.

There was never any other choice.

* * *

_"...to meet you."_

He looks like him. Not in like the obvious things like skin, which reminds her of her probably long dead father, but in the way he carries himself. That glow that Luke had about him, he also has. There's a small woman with black hair standing next to him. After a short conversation, she pushes him in Sana's direction.

She's scared.

She didn't plan on this. No, not plan. Didn't hope for this.

There's a small comfort that he looks just as scared as she does.

Another step.

"Hello, ma'am-- I mean Captain," he stutters out. He then swallows, rolls his shoulders back, and begins again. "Hello, my name is Finn," and sticks his out hand.

She stares at it for a brief moment and makes choice.

She hugs him.

"My name is Sana Starros," she says.

She turns back to the figure glowing on the gangplank to her ship. "I think someone is waiting for both of us."

Hand in hand they walk to the ship.

**Author's Note:**

> Concrit is amazing. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
